


Congress

by dormiensa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Language, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, based on book/film
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 08:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15927038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormiensa/pseuds/dormiensa
Summary: Hermione and Draco’s relationship has met with disapproval on all sides.  After their sudden disappearance, family and friends are beginning to fret… and to reconsider their objections to the couple.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Couple: Eros/Psyche (Greek mythology)
> 
> Pairing summary: The beautiful and mortal Psyche, the youngest of three royal princesses, offends Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, when the king’s subjects (without Psyche’s consent) pay obeisance to her instead of the goddess. Aphrodite sends her son, Eros, god of love, to punish Psyche by piercing her with one of his arrows to ensure she falls in love with a hideous beast. Eros accidentally nicks himself with his arrow and instead falls in love with Psyche. He whisks her away to be secretly married and keeps her safe in an enchanted castle. He makes her promise to never look upon his face and only comes to her at night. 
> 
> Psyche is at first happy but soon grows homesick. Her sisters are allowed to visit and, jealous of her good fortune, they sow seeds of doubt in her mind that her husband must in truth be a hideous monster. 
> 
> One night, succumbing to her fears, Psyche waits until her husband is asleep and lights a lamp. As she gazes in wonder at the perfect specimen of manhood before her, some of the oil drips onto her sleeping husband and wakes him. Realizing that she has broken her promise to him, he flees. 
> 
> In some (happier) versions of the myth, Psyche must undergo trials in order to win back her lost love. They are finally reunited after Eros pleads his case to Zeus, the head honcho, who rules in their favour and prevents Aphrodite from seeking further vengeance. The mean older sisters are also suitably punished.

When Narcissa raised and then lowered her fork for the fourth time, Lucius finally huffed and said, “What is the matter, _lossetári_?” 

She hesitated. “Draco has not been home for three days.” 

“He is likely off at one of those Quidditch tournaments with friends. You know they would leave everything behind if one of them suggests a new venue. The house-elf has not reported of any harm, has he?”

“No...”

“He has not sufficient cunning to have discovered that you spy on him—”

“I do _not_ spy on my son!”

Lucius raised a brow. “And how _would_ you describe your use of the mirror?”

Narcissa sniffed. “I merely use it to ensure he is living comfortably.”

“If you are that concerned, I wonder that you allowed him to move out of the manor.”

It was Narcissa’s turn to raise a brow. “I seem to recall that a certain young wizard begged his mother to purchase a luxurious flat for him as his coming of age birthday gift so that he could flirt with his many young witches without interference.” 

“ _Witches?_ How our memories become muddled as time passes. I only ever brought _one_ witch to my ‘luxurious flat’. You seemed quite content to be away from your mother’s watchful eye at the time.”

“Not as much as you, darling.”

Lucius harrumphed. “At least I was mindful of my duties—”

“Is he not deserving of some choice after all that has happened to him in the past five years?” 

Lucius stiffened. He bit back a retort as tears began to form at the corners of Narcissa’s eyes, despite her glare. He sighed, shoulders uncharacteristically slumped, and said, “I have only ever wanted to ensure his safety and place in our world. But the path he has chosen…”

“—Is still of his own choosing. It is not his wish to oppose you, Lucius, but times have changed, and we must learn to adjust. She may be the key to smoothing his path ahead. They are merely dating, after all.”

Lucius raised both brows. “He has not brought her back to the house? I find that astonishing.”

“Of course he has, but they are not co-habitating. I have placed strong anti-contraception charms on the house, besides, so you need not concern yourself about violation of the succession rules.”

“Do you know my mother placed a charm on my flat so as to ensure that our son could only be conceived here in the manor?”

“Why, that—” Narcissa took several breaths to calm herself. “I’m surprised she allowed us to remain in the flat for the first two years after Draco’s birth. How did you manage it?”

Lucius smirked. “I believe _you_ managed it by ensuring he was constantly fussing or crying whenever we visited.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean and resent the implication that I would inflict any harm on my son in order—”

“No, but our visits too often coincided with his scheduled meal and nap times.”

Narcissa smiled mischievously, finally unable to keep her composure. At the insistent tug on her hand, she settled into her husband’s lap and laid her head on his shoulder. 

“We were happy those first few years, weren’t we, Cissa?”

“Mmmm. Draco could as well, if we allow him the time and space to decide his future. You know he has always needed your approval.”

Lucius sighed. “I don’t deny that she could open doors that would otherwise remain closed to us, but even if we did not oppose the match, _her lot_ will offer much greater resistance—”

“Yes, dear, but we will have appeared to be supportive, and they could not accuse us of holding onto prejudices…”

Lucius sighed again. “Very well. _If_ this ridiculous relationship does turn into more than a passing fancy, I will endeavour to be more civil. She will need to prove herself capable of assuming the role of the next lady. I’m not convinced—”

“Of course, dear. Did you think I would hand the mantle over to her without first testing her?”

Lucius smirked. “My father never appreciated the sharp mind behind the pretty face, but I always have.” 

He kissed her before she could respond.

~*~*~*~

“Harry, what year did the Ministry make it illegal to hunt hippogriffs?”

“Dunno. Ask—never mind.”

“If I could, I wouldn’t be asking you.”

“Ask your brother Percy, then.”

“The git sent me a Howler last time, remember?”

“Then check the Ministry library… and don’t ask the Head Librarian. She hasn’t forgiven you for damaging that book on Pacific Ocean magical flora.”

“That means I’ll have to talk to her git-faced assistant. Bugger.”

~*~*~*~

“Well, do you know which store she usually buys them from?”

“Merlin knows! I can’t even navigate that Underground system of trains. And doesn’t she always go to a different one every year so as not to repeat the selection?”

Susan sighed. Sunday Brunch at The Burrow was organized chaos at the best of times, but when it coincided with Midsummer, the planning involved grew exponentially in complexity. And it was times such as these that she really missed Hermione’s management abilities. Her hand twitched again, the murderous desires to hex her mulish husband resurfacing for the umpteenth time. 

Ginny gave her a knowing look. “After what they’ve gone through together, you’d think they could be more supportive of her choice. But I suppose, having befriended two such idiots, it leaves one in some doubt of her mental faculties.”

Susan snorted. “And what does it say about me that I _married_ one of them?”

“That there’s definite truth in the phrase ‘love is blind’.”

Susan rolled her eyes. “And deaf, too. He’s waking _himself_ up with his snores, you know.”

“Why do you think we kicked him to the attic?”

Susan laughed. Then sighed. “I think we need to make a list of what items we still need to purchase and where, and then contact the Muggle Liaison Office and request a guide into Muggle London. Preferably one who _actually_ knows how to navigate that labyrinth.”

Ginny reluctantly agreed, but as they began compiling their ever-growing list, she paused in mid-ramble. After three prompts from Susan, she suddenly said, “Why are we bothering? The best way to show those two _and_ Mum how wrong they are is to let the celebration be a complete disaster!”

Susan’s eyes widened. “Th-that’s brilliant, Gin! Evil, to be sure, but brilliant!” She suddenly laughed. “And won’t Ron be cross when he realizes there won’t be any of those sushi rolls that he loves so much.”

“And Mum’s always depended on Hermione to bring the disposable plates and utensils so there isn’t so much washing up after.”

“Ginevra, you are a genius.”

~*~*~*~

“Sorry I’m late, girls!” Padma leaned against the wall inside the restaurant’s foyer to catch her breath. “Have you been waiting long?”

Ginny huffed. “Almost half-hour now. The _maître d’_ said the wait was ten minutes, but that was more than fifteen minutes ago. We’re debating going elsewhere.”

“Unfortunately, we’re quite certain the wait will be just as long everywhere else. This is why we need Hermione to arrange things,” Pansy groused.

Susan nodded emphatically. “We’ve been rather spoiled by her, haven’t we?”

“We certainly have,” said Padma. “I didn’t realize how dependent I’ve become of her reminder alerts until I didn’t receive one, hence my extreme tardiness!”

“ _Number 58, table for four._ ”

“That’s us! Finally!” As she followed the staff member showing them to their table, Pansy called back, “Let’s get settled and order quickly! I want to hear all about the disastrous Midsummer gathering!”


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione opened her door and smiled to see Draco leaning against the frame. 

“Ready?” He held out one hand for her bags and the other for her.

“ _Allons-y!_ ” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and then locked the door securely behind them.

~*~*~*~

Hermione gaped at the imposing structure before her. This ancient fortress had been converted ten years ago to the most exclusive magical hotel on native soil. Draco smirked as they made eye contact, and she rolled her eyes. Of course, only the best for a Malfoy.

She explored their suite, noting the large bathroom with the tub that reminded her of the prefects' one at Hogwarts (thankfully minus the mermaid who always stuck her tongue out at all the girls).

As they sat down for dinner, Hermione couldn’t help but sigh. She wished she’d had a talk with Harry and Ron prior to leaving for her trip. Disappointed though she was at their animosity, she still missed them. 

Draco huffed. “Gryffindors and their guilt,” he muttered in an undertone. Aloud, he said, “They’ll be _fine_. You agreed we needed time away from them. We did leave notes that we were going.”

“I know. I just wish you hadn’t talked me into leaving the notes in my flat for them to eventually find instead of owling.”

“Wasn’t I clever to cast that spell to repair the door to your flat and your floo should those two wankers choose to break in without first checking if you’d set your wards against them?” He smirked as she rolled her eyes, but then he said in a serious tone, “They excommunicated us first. We don’t owe them any explanations for living our lives.”

“You’re right, of course, but…”

“No buts. Pansy and Blaise overcame generations of ‘snotty upbringing’. What happened to that supposed Gryffindor generosity and fair play?”

She huffed. “You mean the Gryffindor stubbornness. And I made friends with Pansy on my own, _prior_ to us even working together on our first project.”

“I suppose we should be grateful for the Slytherin sneakiness. It is, after all, how we landed on our first date.”

She grinned. “Who would’ve guessed Blaise and Ginny would be such busybody matchmakers? I wonder who they intend for Pansy.”

“So long as it’s not the Weasel King. Ow!” He rubbed the back of his hand, smarting from her pinch. “Well, don’t you think it weird to pair your ex-boyfriend with my alleged ex-girlfriend?”

“He’s not my ex, and you know it. I may have had feelings for him in school, but that didn’t come to anything after Voldemort interrupted our lives. Oh good! The shudder is gone! Ten points to Gryffindor!”

“Polyjuice Potion.” Draco smirked when she grimaced. “Seems you still need to work on your conditioning.”

“Prat!”

“Pots and kettles. Now, what menu item piques your appetite?”

~*~*~*~

They landed on the edge of an ancient forest in mid-afternoon. About twenty paces away stood a roundhouse of stone with thatched roof.

Draco gave a smirk at Hermione’s questioning look and led her toward the hut. They circled it and finally stopped before the wooden door. Hermione gasped when Draco spell-blasted the door open but relaxed when she realized that there was no one home. They stepped through and paused to adjust to the dim interior. Before Draco closed the door, she checked it for damages and smiled in relief when she could find none. He rolled his eyes.

Above the firepit, a cauldron was bubbling quietly. A long wooden table on the side of the hut below the slitted window was laden with jars of potion ingredients and various glassware; bunches of drying plants hung from the rafters. This was undoubtedly a Potioneer’s laboratory. 

Hermione took a quick picture of the room and walked about, noting the half-chopped root vegetables on another wooden table, the shelf of well-worn books, five in all, and the surprising lack of smoke. A quick look at the rafters revealed two tubular vents spelled to be invisible, along with the smoke, from the outside. So, the Potioneer was an innovator as well.

Draco was eagerly flipping through the book lying open on the potion-brewing table. He finally let out a whoop and directed Hermione’s attention to a page of spidery handwriting with words frequently scratched out, plenty of notes in the margins, diagrams, and occasional blots. As she began deciphering the remaining text, her excitement grew. 

She looked up and beamed, wrapping her arms about his neck and pecking his cheek. “This book documents the creation of the Draught of Living Death! But how did you even figure out when to go? The name of the Potioneer is lost to history!”

He pressed a kiss to her lips. “In the standardized texts, yes. But you forget that I inherited Snape’s books. There is only one brief mention of the most likely person, but I’d say it was worth the trip to discover the truth.”

“And who is he?”

Draco raised a brow. “ _She_ only went by the name Adeldreda. Little is known about her origins, but clearly she must have come from some wealth, to have been educated to such a level.”

Hermione nodded, wishing her blush would go away. To have fallen into the trap of common prejudice always made her furious with herself. Draco seemed to understand her self-admonishment and pressed gentle kisses to her cheek. She gave him a grateful smile. “She was very scientific in her approach. Look, this book documents several trials, and it seems there were significant improvements with each attempt. Oh no! You left your fingerprints on the corner of these pages! Here, let me—Blast! I left the eraser in my other bag!”

“Never mind! I’ll just smudge it with some ink. There! She’s got blots all over anyway, so I doubt she’d notice. She’ll probably assume it’s her own ink-splattered fingers marking the pages.”

A sudden soft _TING!_ of a bell warned them that their Return Time-Travelling Portkey was about to activate in five minutes’ time. Taking one final look about the hut, they joined hands and were soon transported back to their hotel room in Ireland. 

“So, did you enjoy my first destination?”

Hermione kissed him. “It was a wonderful choice! I don’t know that mine tomorrow can compare.”

“I doubt that. It’s a pity that we couldn’t make a duplicate of that notebook. None of her books survive. The instructions for brewing the Draught were passed down orally by her apprentice-descendants and eventually written down.”

“I suppose not all of them were literate.”

“That is the assumption. There was speculation that she always disguised herself as a man when in public. I think that was the only way she could’ve attracted students.”

“Yes, I can believe that. Did you notice the ventilation system she installed? Definitely ahead of her time.”

“Indeed. Now, where shall we go for dinner?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Hallan, I am aware that Master Draco has not been home for several days. He has caused Master Lucius and me much grief over his sudden disappearance. We are worried for his safety. Tell me: has Master Draco gone somewhere and forbidden you to reveal his whereabouts to us?”

The elf twisted his ears nervously. “Yes, Mistress.”

“And did he go to this place alone?”

“No, Mistress.”

“Very well. You may return to your duties. You have been a good elf.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

~*~*~*~

The Portkey landed them in front of a small cottage by a long stretch of beach. A dark-skinned young wizard accepted the empty Inca Kola bottle from Draco and passed him the front door key. In broken English, he invited them to settle in. He would bring them to the outskirts of the Shanay-timpishka in one hour’s time.

They travelled by air clinging onto the line of what appeared to be a kite made of large plant leaves. Hermione clung tightly to Draco but was forced to forget her acrophobia by the sheer beauty of the landscape below.

When they finally landed, they were handed over to a more senior wizard, whose English was far superior. They trekked further inland and reached the banks of a river that had steam rising from it. As they walked alongside the river, their guide informed that this was the Shanay-timpishka, the Boiling River. He explained that the river was an unusual one of its kind, as its source of heat was not a nearby volcano but rather a deep faultline in the earth; its waters could reach temperatures of up to 93.33 degrees Celsius (which Hermione whispered was 200 Fahrenheit). Between the thick wisps of mist, they could clearly see the riverbed.

Having reached a set of stairs leading down to the muddy edge of the river, they paused. Their guide passed each of them a small turquoise bottle. He told them that, if they were willing, they could imbibe the contents and descend the stairs, after which they were to remove their clothing before immersing into the waters. There was sufficient potion to allow them to safely swim across to the other bank and back. He said that the river was known for its healing powers.

A quick glance at one another confirmed that they would enter the river. But instead of swimming two widths of the sacred stream, they decided to head toward the riverbed at midpoint. Thus surrounded on all sides by the powerful body of water, they could see up- and downstream and appreciate the soothing muting of sounds external and internal. 

Draco’s grip on her hand was tight as they surveyed the underwater landscape. 

Sensing the wearing off of the potion provided by their guide to withstand the water’s extreme heat, they made their way back to shore and donned their clothes. They were quiet on their return journey, each lost in thought. Their guide wisely did not comment and would occasionally point out certain plants that were used for healing. By the time they returned to the cottage, a meal awaited them, the crockery and utensils of which disappeared when they finished partaking. 

As they would be staying for another two days, Hermione and Draco chose to spend the rest of their day relaxing on the beach. He complimented her on her excellent first choice. Raised in a circle that valued human and magical superiority above all else, he’d not considered the powerful forces of nature except in how it could be tamed or the ways its climatic conditions inconvenienced his activities. Being surrounded and immersed in it gave him a new sense of perspective. She snuggled against him and told of her adventures trekking the woods behind her grandparents’ house and the camping trips her father insisted on. She laughingly recalled the first inkling she’d had that she was different: she had unknowingly handled poison ivy but did not suffer from its effects. He kissed her temple and called her a human bezoar, which earned him a playful slap on the chest.

Draco awoke from his nap and breathed a sigh of contentment. His arms tightened around the soft, warm, sun-kissed body cuddled into him, and he pressed a tender kiss into the mass of curls. Hermione stirred and gave a drowsy hum of happiness before falling back asleep. The rhythm of the waves soon lulled him into peaceful repose.

Their remaining days were spent hovering to admire the Nazca Lines by kite and exploring the wizarding community in the capital city of Lima. After much initial debate, they had decided against visiting Machu Picchu, feeling that they would rather make it the focus of a future trip. 

Returning to their hotel amidst a typical cloudy, rainy day did not bother them as much as it normally did, though they made a point of enjoying a luxurious bath together with the water temperature higher than normal.


	4. Chapter 4

Blaise huffed into the chair across and was decidedly put out. Even Ginny’s raised brow failed to make him collect himself. 

Sighing, she grabbed his hand and asked, “What’s wrong, my smooth-talker?”

Blaise pouted. “Malfoy’s gone missing.”

“What?”

“Not at his flat, not at the manor, hasn’t been to work for a week. Not even his dear mum knows where he is.”

“Oh dear. You don’t think they’re in some sort of trouble, do you?” At his confusion, she said, “Hermione’s been missing for a week, too.”

“You mean that ex-boyfriend of yours, with all those Ministry resources at his disposal, hasn’t found them yet? That is a new level of incompetence.”

“Oh, shut it! No one has officially reported them missing yet, so he doesn’t have that many tools available. It’s odd, though. Hermione normally informs if she’s going away. I know she and those two idiots aren’t really on speaking terms because of _your_ best friend, but she usually lets us girls know her whereabouts.”

“He is no longer my best friend—or acquaintance, for that matter.”

“You’re such a drama queen! Just tell Pansy first and wait until he gets back to tell him.”

“I refuse to use such inefficient means of giving news. I’ll tell them both once or not bother.”

“And you lot complain about Gryffindors being stubborn. Never mind. It’s not as if they don’t know we’ve been dating. We’re the ones that set them up, after all, and—it was only last month, wasn’t it?—we did the double-date at that new restaurant in Helsinki. Now, are you going to sulk all through dinner? Because if you are, you can do it alone.”

~*~*~*~

Having browsed through the catalogue of fifteenth century garb provided by the time-travel agency, Hermione decided on an outfit and passed the book to Draco to choose. Within minutes of closing the book, their attire was magicked to match their selections. Soon after, their Portkey sounded, informed that they were headed toward 1454, and deposited them inside a dark room. As her eyes adjusted, Hermione gasped, recognizing the location. She looked about eagerly. They were inside Flourish and Blotts, although it looked quite different in this past. For one thing, there were no bookshelves lining the walls and overflowing with books. Instead, there were two tables in the centre of the shop, stacked only three volumes deep with merchandise.

“This is the night before the grand opening,” Draco whispered. Hermione gave a small squeal of delight and hugged him so tightly that he had to protest with what little breath he still retained. She loosened her grip and buried her head in embarrassment against his shoulder, mumbling an apology. Draco pressed a kiss atop her head and murmured that they had but three hours in their destination. Hermione disentangled herself.

They examined the titles of the books. Most of them dealt with healing remedies and astronomy. There were two claiming to be the latest (contradictory) theory on Alchemy. With a squeal, Hermione opened one simply titled, _Spellman’s Syllabary_. She flipped the pages, comparing this first edition with her memory of the copy she owned, whose author had expanded on this earlier work and kept the original title. There were definitely differences, a consequence of gained knowledge through the centuries. 

Beside her, Draco explored _Moste Potente Potions_ and was astonished to learn it was a second edition. He frowned at the archaic spelling and noted that the names of ingredients had not yet been standardized, especially for Belladonna: one page would list it as Atropa, another both Deadly Nightshade and Dwale under the same potion, though most did use Belladonna, even if they failed to spell its name consistently. As he reviewed the steps for brewing Polyjuice, he couldn’t help looking at Hermione. He’d learned about the cat hair mishap in Second from a drunk Weasel King, though it took him quite some time to be rid of the anger of discovering they’d pulled one over him pretending to be Crabbe and Goyle. 

With a sigh, Hermione closed her book and placed it carefully atop the pile. She saw the tables and chairs lining the walls and guessed that patrons were welcome to sit and read, which meant that in its earliest incarnation, Flourish and Blotts functioned as both a bookshop and a library. It made sense: books were rare and not always affordable. The wizards and witches likely brought supplies of quills and parchment to note down the information they needed. She wondered if beverages were allowed.

Draco tapped her on the shoulder, nodded toward the back door, and they quietly exited the shop. Noting that there was still another hour before their Portkey activated, they decided to explore Diagon Alley. There were still plenty of shoppers and they blended in. Certain stores stood in their familiar locations: the Apothecary, Eeylops, and Ollivanders. It was odd to find a sweets shop on the site where Gringotts normally stood, and Hermione sighed wistfully when she realized her favourite shop for writing materials did not yet exist. The Alley also contained fewer side roads and branchings, and they soon covered its entirety from end to end. 

Finding themselves once more in their hotel, Hermione had a sudden desire to explore the Diagon Alley of their time and gave a blissful sigh as they entered Flourish and Blotts amidst the bustle. Draco teased that Crookshanks would be most displeased to see her return home with yet another stack of books. She ignored him.

~*~*~*~

“Will you lot just shut it for a mo’?!” Having finally got temporary silence, a red-faced Ron glared at the angry mob gathered in the tiny Auror office. The git Malfoy would’ve smirked and managed to find amusement at such an odd mix of friend and foe thus congregated. Hermione would’ve had something equally scathing to say about her sudden popularity _in absentia_. Ron groaned. Those two really _were_ right for one another. “Look, I don’t know where ’Mione is. But she’s not here, and you stomping in here with your threats isn’t gonna make her appear suddenly. So, to quote her, ‘for once in your life, figure it out’!”

The noise erupted once more.

“But I don’t know where she found that obscure law and I need it for my presentation this afternoon!” Percy whined.

“And she’s the only one with a complete list of goblin habitations!” complained Theo.

“I dunno how to use them Muggle contraptions,” Goyle grumbled.

“She confiscated our stock of Bubotuber pus, and if we don’t replenish our anti-blemish potions soon, those angry hags will tear down the door!” Fred and George exclaimed in unison.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on?” A disheveled Harry appeared at the door, took one look at the disgruntled expressions of the faces turned toward him, and sighed. He shuffled toward his desk and discarded his protective gear. Raking a tired hand through his messy hair, he collapsed into his chair and pinched his nose. “We don’t know where Hermione is. Her secretary won’t tell us anything, just that she’s away. None of the girls know either. And no, we can’t search her flat—you know the protective wards she has and what they did the last time Ron tried to break in.” 

There was a collective wince. Ron merely huffed at the looks of sympathy aimed at him—if only the tossers had buggered off and left him in peace, that’d be all the kindness he needed.

“Now, would you all please figure out a solution to your problems and let us get back to our jobs? We promise that if we find a means of contacting Hermione, we’ll let you know.” When they finally cleared out, Harry sank into his chair with another sigh, his head leaning against the back. “I don’t suppose you tried reaching her with one of those DA Galleons?”

“Can’t find mine, but Susan tried hers. No answer.”

“Well, maybe it’s time we—”

“Mr Potter and Mr Weasley, if I may have a moment of your time?”

Harry’s head snapped up, and he stared slack-jawed at the figure in the doorway. Narcissa Malfoy raised an elegant brow and, taking their lack of refusal as sufficient invitation, glided into the room, shutting the door quietly but firmly. 

Sitting primly opposite Harry, she said, “As I’m sure you gentlemen are aware, both my son and Miss Granger have been conspicuously absent this past week. I understand that neither you nor any of their close acquaintances know of their whereabouts. Lucius and I are quite concerned for their safety. It is very unlike Draco to leave for such a duration without communication. I presume the same is true for Miss Granger. I wish to request an informal investigation into their disappearance. There has been no indication that they are in any mortal peril; we do not wish to start any rumours.” Narcissa hesitated and, in a different, more desperate voice, continued, “And if you would be so kind as to provide me with the address of the residence of Mr and Mrs Granger, I would be most grateful.”

Harry and Ron gaped, wide-eyed. 

Narcissa frowned. “You should be fully aware, Mr Potter, that I would risk everything for my son’s happiness. While I have had doubts about this relationship, if she is his chosen partner for life, then I will do my utmost to ensure that all impediments are removed from their lives.” She gave them a pointed look. “It is customary for the prospective in-laws to meet and agree upon the dowry.” She ignored Ron’s guffaw.

Harry cleared his throat. “I have their address, and I’ll give it to you, but you have to promise that no harm of any kind will come to them or any of Hermione’s family.”

Narcissa smiled. Harry gave an involuntary shudder: he never truly understood that she and Bellatrix were related until this moment. “I assure you, Mr Potter, that while he has not fully accepted their relationship, Lucius will come around. And he will behave with proper civility—when he is finally introduced.”

Harry finally nodded, scribbled onto some parchment, and handed it to her. Narcissa thanked him, rose gracefully from her seat, and disappeared in a twirl of silk and perfume.

~*~*~*~

As their next destination was booked for the morrow, Hermione and Draco decided that they should explore their hotel and take advantage of the amenities. They enjoyed a lovely brunch and, given that it was an unusually sunny day, chose to stroll the manicured gardens.

She linked arms with him and said, “I’m so glad we compromised on three choices each. It’s less rushed this way. I think I’ll be adopting this method of going on holiday from now on.”

Draco smiled down at her. “The snooty aristos finally got something right? Ow!”

“Our wizarding society could use a French Revolution. Maybe your lot will finally be introduced to the concept of meritocracy.”

“Why not start your own rebellion? I’m sure all will be forgiven and those two wankering best friends would gladly support you. Ow!” 

Hermione was about to retort when she noticed the tears in his eyes as he rubbed his forearm, where she’d given him a pinch. “Draco, I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d—do you need a potion for the pain?”

“I’m fine. The blasted scar has been tingling these past few days, is all. The pain’s gone, at least.”

She blinked. “What pain? Why didn’t you tell me it was hurting? Has it bothered you before?”

“Not lately. The pain woke me up, but after the swim, it was fine.”

“When was this?” 

“That first night at the cottage by the ocean.” Draco’s eyes widened. “I think the Shanay-timpishka’s temperature somehow aggravated the scarring. I didn’t think there was a connection because of the freezing potion we drank.”

Hermione’s eyes also widened. “Oh, then maybe…” She frowned in thought. “Yes, my scar also started hurting after that day, though I’d assumed it was because I was sleeping in unfamiliar beds.”

Draco pulled her close and rubbed concentric circles about her side. “So, I guess those supposed healing powers are a myth.”

“Well, I’m sure the river’s temperature is good for sterilizing and probably can provide some relief to aches and pains and ailments like arthritis. But a cure-all is unlikely. I brought some essence of Murtlap and Dittany. We should try applying some after our baths tonight.”

“Perhaps they’ve supplied some medicinal bathing salts. I’ll check the list.” He kissed her. “It was still an excellent adventure. The Nazca Lines were incredible.”

Hermione smiled gratefully and hugged him. “I’m glad we’re not betting on whose choices are best. You most definitely win hands-down with the bookshop visit.”

Draco grinned. “I’ve learned to never underestimate you, so I’m looking forward to our next destination. Can you at least hint at which part of the world we’ll be heading to? The catalogue of clothes did give away the era.”

Hermione laughingly shook her head. “That’s the advantage of present-day locations, and I intend to make full use of it.”

“The Sorting Hat needs its judgement spells re-cast.”

Hermione snorted. “Slytherins aren’t the only ones with cunning.”

“So, you’ve come to see it as a virtue, after all?”

“Ugh! The twisting-logic bit is most definitely unique to your House.”

“Just like reckless disregard for one’s safety is unique to yours?”

“Hmph! Since Voldemort is a banned topic,”—She smirked at his wince.—“shall we settle our differences with a swim in the pool?”

“ _En garde!_ ”


	5. Chapter 5

Pansy paused before her chair and frowned at Blaise’s serious expression. “When you sent the owl about lunch, I assumed Ginny would be joining us.”

Blaise shook his head and waited for her to be seated. In silent agreement, they wandlessly cast the Redirectional Bubble about their table. They then agreed that the topic should be an upcoming tea party that their mothers were jointly hosting. When they had first learned about the Muffliato Spell from Draco, Pansy had gone into laughing hysterics and Blaise had rolled his eyes so hard that he’d strained his ocular nerve. Draco himself admitted that he’d nearly choked, such was the force of his derisive snort when Hermione had told him about the spell. The three friends had forgiven Snape his momentary lapse by claiming that it must have been a spell he’d developed as a young child. They themselves had perfected their Bubble spell in Second; it caused any prying ears to be deceived into thinking that the three were discussing a harmless and inane topic of their choosing, such as the said tea party.

Having ensured that they could not be overheard, Pansy said, “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

Blaise tsked. “If he were, Lucius and Narcissa would’ve already held a press conference.”

“True. Well, are we here to devise a planned rescue?”

“The bastard doesn’t deserve such consideration, having unceremoniously bailed on us without so much as a hastily scrawled interoffice memo. And since we have no idea when he intends to return, Ginny has persuaded me to have the discussion with the two of you separately.”

Pansy had instinctively made a grab for Blaise’s hand before retracting it, knowing the Bubble did not mask body language. Letting out a slow, calming breath, she said, “Are things all right between you?”

“Yes. And no, we aren’t in trouble.” He cleared his throat. “Quite the opposite. I… wish… no, I hope that…” He huffed. “I want the relationship to be long-term with the intention of marriage,” he said in a single, rushed breath.

Pansy managed to keep her jaw from unhinging, but she could not stop herself from ogling. When she finally had control of her emotions again, she stammered, “A-and Ginevra has agreed?”

Blaise frowned. “Has she said anything to indicate she has changed her mind?”

“Oh no, not that!” Pansy struggled for words. “You’ve only been dating exclusively for two months. I… didn’t think you’d be ready for commitment.” The “ _ever_ ” went unsaid.

Blaise sighed. “I do not jump from one witch’s embrace to the next by choice. They never wanted more, and I hadn’t found one that I cared enough about to ask her to stay.”

Pansy blinked. “Then those stories about heartbreak that some of them—”

“Were their need to create drama to hide their disappointment that I wasn’t the wicked Slytherin of their fantasies.” He shrugged. “It did me no harm.”

Pansy snorted. “If Draco were here, he’d have something to say about reputations that you realize too late can’t be easily discarded.” She sighed. “I miss that recreant.” 

“You just miss being able to tease him about Granger.”

“That’s an added bonus. No, I miss being able to point out the follies of all the idiots around us. And Quidditch is so boring to watch without him to goad Harry.”

“Oh, ‘Harry’, is it?”

“Shut it, Zabini! I’m reserving the right to call him ‘Potter’ when he annoys me.”

“I’m surprised you’ve managed to call him by his first name at all… oh no… no, no, no, I do not want to know that you have seen the wazzock naked!”

“Fine, if you insist, you can continue not to know.”

“Guruhi’s priapistic spunktrumpet! Ow!” Blaise glared and rubbed his knee where it’d crashed into the underside of the table after Pansy’s stinging hex. 

Pansy smirked. “You’d better go home and have a relaxing bath. You know how the tingling can last for days if you don’t administer the antidote.”

“Evil witch! Haven’t you come up with a replacement spell yet? Been using the same one for twenty years!”

“Why should I? This one is perfect to use on cuntpuddles like you.”

“So, if Potter were to declare his undying love for you and present you with a garish ruby that belonged to his dearly departed mum, what is your answer?” He batted his eyes.

Pansy choked on her wine. “You absolute wankstain!” 

“Oh come now, ‘Mrs. Saviour-of-This-Miserably-Inbred-World’ has a certain ring to it.”

“You do realize your presence at those Sunday Brunches will be mandatory once you’re married to the clan.”

Blaise recovered much sooner than anticipated. “As will your presence at every silly function that the Ministry can compel Potter to attend.”

Pansy groaned. Blaise smirked and savoured a piece of his seared seabass. 

“Well, at least I’ll have Draco to commiserate with. You can bet that Hermione will be at those functions.”

“You know that _your_ presence at those Sunday Brunches will also be mandatory. Potter has practically become heir apparent.”

Pansy nearly emptied her store of creative expletives.

~*~*~*~

They arrived in the outskirts of Mek’ele, Ethiopia at 5:03 am. Hermione was surprised that it wasn’t as cold as she’d anticipated for a semi-arid region at night but felt it prudent to keep her light jacket on.

Accepting the brooms their guide provided, they flew behind her along the dusty path leading north away from the city. They looked about in awe as they entered the valley. Even in the dark, the sheer immensity of the cliffs was obvious as they loomed and obscured the expanse of stars above. 

When they reached their destination, Hermione smiled as she looked at Draco staring slack-jawed up the vertical sandstone cliff. Their guide collected and shrank their brooms and asked whether they preferred to scale the wall with or without the aid of ropes. Hermione replied firmly that she still intended to make the climb without ropes. When he failed to respond, even to her calling him by name, she shook him. Draco came out of his stupor from the mental calculations of the required effort to scale the cliff (and the safety risks therein) and, after learning of their guide’s query and Hermione’s intention, said he would do the same. Their guide nodded and told them it was easier and safer for them to remove their shoes. Hermione placed both pairs inside her charmed bag.

For the next 45 minutes, Hermione focussed solely on reaching the next foothold, the next platform. Even with the anti-slip charms, the ascent was difficult. They stopped to regain their breath and to hydrate before attempting the last stretch, which was a sheer vertical. When they finally reached the precarious ledge (they were told the drop was 650 feet), their guide told them to carefully hold onto the rockface as they made their way toward a large circular opening. Upon reaching their destination, their guide invited them to sit and admire the view. Hermione gasped as she gazed across the vast landscape. She paused briefly to meet Draco’s eyes when she felt him squeeze their joined hands and smiled at his silent thanks. Returning her attention to the view, she understood why the religious pilgrims who carved the church into this sandstone pinnacle had chosen it. To be so close to the heavens was surely to understand the divine. 

Their guide informed that the devout had been making this climb since the sixth century and that the church behind them was one of roughly 120 such religious locations in the Tigray Region. 

The sky had been slowly lightening as they climbed, and now, the sun peeked above the horizon and allowed them to see in greater detail the beauty and wonderment of the canyon that stretched out for miles. Its stark and harsh lines only made it more impressive. Only the most resilient would want to traverse such an inhospitable land.

When they could finally tear their eyes from their surroundings, they entered into the church, Abuna Yemata Guh, to see its famous frescoes. As they exited, Draco requested that they return to the other end of the ledge to have another look from their lofty vantage point. 

Finally, their guide withdrew a handful of sand from her pocket and told them to jump on the count of “three”. The thrown sand carried them safely back to the ground almost 2,600 feet below. 

After a brief discussion, Hermione and Draco declined visiting another such “church in the sky”, choosing instead to explore the canyon on broomstick (Hermione, with Draco’s help, having finally conquered her fear of flying, was eager to improve her skills), stopping only for brief meals. By sunset, they were back in Mek’ele, partaking of a traditional meal of meats and vegetables served atop a sourdough flatbread. Draco was very interested in the Ethiopian coffee ritual and exclaimed at the fragrance of the beverage, not minding its bitterness.

As they sat with their coffees looking up at the stars and trying to figure out if they recognized any of the constellations, Draco teased that despite the intent of showcasing Nature in her glory, Hermione’s choices still included elements of magic. He was forced to concede that the magic did not diminish the grandeur one bit and in fact enhanced the experience. Hermione tried not to appear smug. 

Knowing they had another trek across arid lands the following day, the pair revised their plan to return to their hotel, choosing instead to Portkey to Luxor, Egypt to stay at a local inn. Before she fell asleep, Hermione wondered if the temple complex of Karnak would seem tame after their experience of the day.


	6. Chapter 6

Looking around at the assembled crowd, Pansy eyed the person who had gathered them and said, “I assume you called all of us here to discuss the possible whereabouts of Hermione and Draco?”

Ginny smiled. “Correct.”

The ensuing cacophony lasted several minutes before Ginny could call them to order. “I understand that their absence has been an inconvenience to you, but the purpose of this meeting isn’t to air grievances but to figure out where in the blazes they’ve gone. They can’t be in any mortal danger—I’m sure Malfoy’s mum would’ve stormed the Ministry demanding assistance or revenge.”

Pansy snorted. “Never mind his mum. Even his house-elf would be on the rampage. No, they’ve clearly gone away. The question is: will they ever come back?”

Harry grabbed her hand. “What do you mean? Of _course_ they’ll come back!”

Pansy raised a brow. “After not getting a civil word from you since they started dating? Why should she? Both of them would be better off settling elsewhere and starting a new life together, away from the glares of non-supporters and the hostilities of familial expectations.”

Harry had the grace to look abashed. Sitting next to him, Ron wore the same expression.

Susan piped up. “Pansy’s right. You two have been awful to her. After all that’s she’s done for you, too. You wouldn’t still have your jobs if she hadn’t intervened after the mess with the goblins. Shut it, Ron!” Her husband deflated.

“Hen-pecked,” Blaise muttered then yelped when Ginny smacked him upside the head. Ron’s chuckle became a cough at Susan’s warning glare, and he quickly swallowed whatever snide comment he was about to make.

Harry sighed. “I guess there’s no chance of them breaking up if they’re willing to do a disappearing act on us.” After a pause, he added, “He’s not that bad a bloke, I suppose. At least he’s stopped with the blood prejudice shite.”

“A year’s house arrest tends to put life into perspective,” Blaise remarked.

“And he’s the only one who laughs at ’Mione’s bookish jokes. They were probably his only entertainment growing up in that moldy mansion.”

“A compliment, backhanded though it may be. Good on you, Weasel King. Knew you had it in you. Ow! Woman, will you desist in visiting violence upon my person!”

“As master of the backhanded compliment, Blaise Caelius Zabini, you’re one to talk.”

“Will you two lovebirds save the flirting for another time? Ow! What? It’s gross!”

“You’d better shut up before your sister hexes you, Ronald. I, for one, think that Hermione and Draco make a great pair. Remember how that project they put together for the International Magical-Muggle Consortium was so successful that between them, they’ve had offers from seven different ministries to go work for them?”

“And if we don’t make a point of showing better support for them, they might just decide to accept one of those offers. As I recall, those ministries left their invitations open,” Ginny mused. “Pansy, I don’t suppose there’s a chance of getting the Malfoys to change their stance?”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “From what I’ve gathered, Narcissa isn’t that against the match, but it may take knocking Hermione up to get Lucius around.”

Ron sputtered. “You don’t suppose they’ve gone and eloped!”

Blaise scoffed. “Of course not! The manse would’ve exploded. There’s no tricking their family tapestry—they’d know the minute it happened.”

“Well, has anyone checked their flats for clues?”

“Can’t enter Draco’s place without his expressed invitation. And his house-elf wasn’t forthcoming.”

“Hermione’s likely sealed her fireplace since after we caught them… that time.” Ron shuddered as the image of a pale backside flashed before his eyes. Harry also gave a violent shake of his head to dispel memories.

“Potter, is there _any_ point in being an Auror if you can’t even locate your best friend?”

Harry huffed. “ _You_ try working around the paperwork and the associated restriction charms, Zabini! It has to be a family member who puts in a formal request. We’re not in wartime, so there’s no override.”

“I don’t suppose you could ask Malfoy’s mum to make the request, Pansy?”

“I’ll go around tomorrow and see if I can convince her. But if she hasn’t submitted a formal report to the Ministry to say he’s missing, then there must be something else going on.”

“Like her masterminding this whole disappearance thing?”

Pansy turned shocked eyes on Ron, but then she became pensive. “That’s something I hadn’t considered.”

“What? I was joking!”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I knew making you share the attic with the ghoul was a bad move on Mum and Dad’s part.”

“Oi!”

“Well, shall we call this meeting adjourned until Pansy has gathered more information? I, for one, have reservations for dinner at _Gastronomique_.” Blaise looked significantly at Ginny.

Pansy laughed. “And did you care to inform your date about this, Blaise? She seems quite surprised.”

“I’m not! I—I just forgot it was tonight!”

“Well, you’d better get home and freshen up, darling. You as well, Panse.”

“Whatever for?”

“Oh blast! I forgot to send the owl!”

Blaise rolled his eyes before addressing Pansy. “Ginny and I would love to have dinner with you and Potter tonight. That is, if you are not otherwise engaged. And seeing as how this invitation is last-minute anyway, would you care to join us as well, Mr and Mrs Weasley?”

Susan beamed. “We’d love to!” She jabbed Ron’s ribs. He gave a yelped “Er, right, yeah,” and rubbed his side. “That is, if you’re sure you can change your reservation to include us,” she added.

Pansy snorted. “His cousin is co-owner. I’m sure they can accommodate.”

“We’ll see you all at the restaurant for seven. Remind me, Ginevra, to be the one to send out the invitations in future.”

“Oh, shut it!”

~*~*~*~

Hermione looked about the rolling hills and expanse of green fields with awe. They were at once familiar and foreign. While the landscape hadn’t much changed in over a millennium, many landmarks were missing. They’d landed about a mile outside of Hogsmeade, but the stone and wooden structures she was used to seeing were not there. Instead, a series of thatched roofs peeked out of the ground, the only indication of habitation. The train station was also absent and would remain so for another almost 800 years.

But what was most conspicuously absent was the towering structure of the Hogwarts castle.

Dressed as foragers, they headed in the direction of the forest. As they rounded one of the small hills, Draco paused and consulted his map. He led them toward the spot where the gates would stand and pointed at the series of circular thatched structures protruding out of the ground. “The original Hogwarts,” he whispered.

Draco led her toward the complex. Descending some stairs, they stood before a wooden door. He fished an engraved stone from his pocket and pressed it against the entrance, which swung silently open. As their eyes adjusted, they took in the moss-covered stone walls, the cruck frame roofs of the interconnected longhouses, and the unmistakable crackle of magic. 

“The pamphlet says they built the castle using the original buildings as part of the foundation. Did you ever come across them? I don’t remember ever using them in any of my classes.” 

“Based on their location, I’m guessing they now form part of the kitchens, likely for storage purposes. The Slytherin common areas certainly aren’t thus arranged. And as much as the Potions Masters, especially Slughorn, would’ve loved using it, I doubt they were allowed to monopolize such a historical part of the school.” 

Hermione hummed in agreement, still intent on exploring the original school from end to end. The buildings that branched out from the main corridor of common areas were clearly divided by subject: Potions, Charms, Runes, Herbology, Astronomy. She was pleased to see that the dining area was not divided by Houses and could comfortably seat fifty, which meant that the students would have to eat in shifts. The pamphlets did not note how many active students were studying at the school during this time period nor was there accurate census data available to guess at the total population size. But looking around at the obvious signs of activity, Hermione smiled and thought, _Enough_. 

As she looked at the astronomical charts and diagrams, she marvelled at how detailed they were, despite predating telescopes and other such devices to observe the visible universe. This was an age where textbooks were non-existent, knowledge passed down through an oral tradition. Hermione grinned as she thought of those friends, such as Ron, with poorly developed memory capabilities, who would find such schooling that much harder. 

Looking around the sparsely furnished Charms classroom, Hermione and Draco discussed which spells in the current curriculum already existed by this time, almost three decades since Hogwarts was founded. 

“I would say _Lumos_ would be an obvious one, given the subterranean setting.”

“ _Alohomora_ and _Collaportus_ , or their precursors, if there was a developmental stage.”

“Agreed! The Levitation Charm was the first lesson Flitwick ever taught us in First, so presumably that’s one of the most basic.”

“How soon do you think they invented the jinxes like Jelly-Legs or Stinging? And the defensive ones like _Impedimenta_?”

“Or _Expelliarmus_?”

“Hmph. Your best friend’s favourite, and only, trick.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Spells only need to be effective. The fact that some of the most basic have survived over a millennium proves you don’t need fancy skills.”

“By that argument, art is superfluous and joke wands even more so.”

“I didn’t say that! And a sophisticated civilization _needs_ the non-essentials such as music and culinary arts to be thus defined! Look at the pyramids or the Greek temples or— _mmmphh_.”

“You’re at your sexiest when you’re at your most swotty-indignant. Ow!”

“And you’re a prat!”

“You wound me, Granger. And after I spent so many Galleons and brain cells planning this once-in-a-lifetime excursion to the past.”

“Money is also a superfluous aspect of civilization, _Malfoy_.”

“And love and respect?”

“Ugh, you’re impossible.”

Hermione walked away but didn’t throw him off when Draco caught up and interlaced their hands. They were soon animated in imagining the goings-on of the school. She wondered where the Founders went during summer hols, to which he quipped “The French Riviera” and got another light slap on the arm. 

When they finally, and with many a backward glance, exited by the original door, they decided to explore the grounds, walking the perimeter of the lake and occasionally peering into it to see if they could see any magical creatures (the pamphlet informed that the Giant Squid did not take up residence until the 1920s; rumours were that Newt Scamander had hid it there and later failed to convince it to relocate) and visiting the site of what would become the Quidditch pitch. 

They activated the Portkey and returned to their cozy hotel room, where they ordered room service of pumpkin juice, beef casserole with sides of roast potatoes and carrots, and treacle tart, some of their favourite dishes from school.


	7. Chapter 7

“Oh good, you’re both here!”

Harry and Ron looked up from their reports. “Hullo, Padma!”

She handed them the sealed notes addressed to them. After they read them, Harry and Ron sat gaping at their correspondences. Finally, Harry looked up. “Wh-where did you get this?”

“They have been sitting in Hermione’s flat for nearly two weeks! At first, I assumed you two were too busy to pick them up, but then I heard from Luna that you have been frantically searching for Hermione and Draco, so I assumed these would give you answers.”

“How did you get into ’Mione’s flat?”

Padma looked perplexed. “Through her Floo, of course!”

“B-but… didn’t she block it?”

“Well, if she did, it was only to a select set of people. Before leaving for her holiday, she asked me to help feed Crookshanks. And given that she left your notes on the mantle, I assume she did not block either of you from accessing her flat.”

“Bugger!”

Padma shook her head and grinned. “I assume you thought something terrible had befallen them. I’m glad that you are still concerned for her well-being. Perhaps now you can forgive her choice of boyfriend.”

Harry and Ron looked at one another, shamefaced. 

Padma smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to lecture you. I’m sure Ginny has already done a thorough job. If I were you, I would think of doing something to welcome them home. They are back next Saturday.”

“Thanks, Padma,” Harry said.

Ron nodded fervently. “If you ever need anything…”

“Thank you. You may regret the offer if my family continue to bother me about getting married…” She winked before taking her leave.

~*~*~*~

As their boat neared the entrance of the cave, Draco turned to look at Hermione. “Please don’t tell me we’re here to see stalactites and stalagmites. Even if they are the tallest or oldest in the world, they are still only rock formations.”

Hermione huffed. “Just wait and see. Have I disappointed so far?”

“No, and it would be a pity during the last leg of the competition.”

“For the last time, will you just—it’s not a competition!”

“So you concede that my choices were better?”

“We are not having this conversation. Now, pay attention or I’m kicking you off the boat.”

“Your idea of romancing a bloke needs some polishing.”

“Good thing _you_ asked _me_ out then. Now hush!”

“Really, Granger, such childish means to make me…” 

Draco’s eyes adjusted and he stared. The domes of the cave glowed with countless points of blue luminescence, a practical universe of stars beneath the earth. The boat paused briefly, and he realized that there were strands of glowing light suspending from the rock all around. Their guide explained that the strings were various species of bioluminescent larvae and fungi. These caves along the Waitomo River were first explored in 1887 by a local Maori chief and an English surveyor. They were opened for tourists in 1889 and have had a steady stream of visitors since. 

The guide brought them further into the cave system and explained how the cave was originally formed and what conditions made it the ideal habitat for these species of glowing creatures, all of which went unheeded by Draco as he gazed about in wonderment. Hermione squeezed his hand and he returned the gesture, his other pressing her closer into his embrace. The boat docked, and they continued marvelling on foot. 

They reached the largest section of the grotto and stood, transfixed, at the centre, gazing up at the curves and crevices covered with glowing blue. 

They left by the land entrance and blinked into the sunlight. 

Draco remained quiet throughout their return trip and was still lost in thought when they sat for lunch in the dining area of their hotel. Finally, as their appetizer was cleared away, he said, “You’re right: even without magical enhancement, the natural world is a marvel in its own right.”

Hermione beamed at him. “It was really hard choosing just three spots to visit, but I’m glad you liked them.” She squeezed his hand. “I really loved the three time-travel choices you made. How many more can we choose from? I’d love to see all of them. Maybe not every year—I’m sure we’d run out very quickly. Maybe once every five years? Or for very significant milestone events?”

Draco grinned. “There’s no rule saying you can’t go back to the same time-and-place. I’m sure that exploring the same place through the centuries could keep you occupied for a lifetime.”

“That’s true! What an amazing dissertation for a history student to be able to describe the physical environment in its entirety, not just the sights but sounds and smells! It’s a pity interaction with the peoples of the past is impossible—think of how much more we could learn about ancient cultures, about language development, about forgotten or unrecorded events in our shared human history!”

“The ability to validate or disprove certain pet theories?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You have to admit that being able to witness the actual event would be more beneficial than reading accounts of it, especially if the record is only from one perspective.”

“But what if the outcome was unfair? Too much temptation to want to fix it.”

Hermione sighed. “And that’s why time-travel is so closely monitored. It’s a pity humans are so untrustworthy.”

“Who do you think would be more tempted to change history, Slytherins or Gryffindors?”

Hermione raised a brow. “Is that a trick question?”

“Not at all. For different reasons, not all opposing, I feel both would find easy justification for wanting to interfere.”

“I’ll grant that. And it would be presumptuous to think that Gryffindors would only do it for good.”

“Indeed. Folly, methinks.”

Hermione snorted. “Of course.” With a glint in her eye, she asked, “Do you think the Sorting Hat would’ve put Snape in Gryffindor after Harry defeated Voldemort?”

Draco choked on his drink. “How dare you insult the poor man’s memory?”

“Oh, c’mon. Surely you could entertain the possibility of a Hatstall?”

“For Ravenclaw, perhaps. No, wait, Hufflepuff.”

“Now who’s insulting the poor man’s memory?”

“And _you_ complain that I’m always slighting that House.”

“I’m not! But a Slytherin would think the possibility an insult, wouldn’t he?”

“And now we’re being sexist. Pansy is very much female, she’ll have you know.”

“Ugh! Ginny’s right: slimy!”

Draco grinned. “Weaslette certainly beats you in the cursive language department.”

“Not a skill I ever care to surpass you on.”

“Your optimism has no bounds. You’d be lucky if you became as fluent as Weasel King.”

“Hey! I know plenty of Muggle curse words! I just choose not to use them!”

“Definitely more Gryffindor than Ravenclaw!”

“Hmph! Anyway, we have two more days before we need to head home. Any thoughts on what we should do?”

“We haven’t taken advantage of all the amenities the hotel offers. Perhaps we could look over their list and decide?”

“I’d definitely like another dip in their pool. The view out to the ocean is spectacular.”

“If you’re finished, we can head there once we’ve grabbed our suits.”

“Let’s go!”

~*~*~*~

Narcissa’s Apparition brought her before the small gate on the side of the manor’s gardens. She closed it behind her and tucked away the key. She was surprised when the door of the conservatory was held open by Lucius. She pecked his cheek when he helped her out of her cloak. She knew he was curious about her mysterious outing, but she refused to satisfy him when he was in such bad humour.

She made her way to her bedroom and sat before her dressing table. She sighed. It had been a fruitful meeting, and she was thankful that an understanding was reached after the awkward introduction. But things were by no means settled. For one thing, Lucius needed to accept that their son was not, in all likelihood, to have a pure-blood bride. Narcissa’s hand tightened on the handle of her brush. Her son deserved happiness, and she would scrutinize the family charter to ensure that he and any children could never be disinherited. If Lucius so much as tried, she would escort him to Azkaban herself. 

She was so intent on her thoughts that she failed to notice Lucius stepping into the room until he laid gentle hands on her shoulders. She stared at him through the mirror.

“You have a plan, and you think I will disapprove.” Many had overlooked the sharp mind behind the towering arrogance. Even the Dark Lord, who had only cared for cowering obedience and the wealth of resources made available by his “inner circle” of followers. Lucius could not have emerged from the Dark Lord’s downfall so relatively unscathed if he’d been a Goyle or Crabbe. 

Narcissa smiled. “Sit, _helcellyár_. We must discuss Draco’s relationship with Miss Granger.” She ignored his scowl and patted the seat next to hers. When Lucius was seated, she looked him firmly in the eyes and said, “I spent the evening at dinner with Miss Granger’s parents. It seems you are not the only one who disapproves of their relationship. They think she is making a terrible mistake being with a young man of privilege who could never appreciate the value of success gained through hard work and ambition.”

“Middle-class morality! The Malfoy name will open more doors than she could ever dream! She could be Head of any department she wishes—even Minister for Magic, if that is her aim! And she would avoid many of the pitfalls through our tutelage. They can act as high-minded as they like, all that nonsense about a new era of acceptance and accountability. When it comes to the sticking point, politics is about money and connections.”

Narcissa raised a brow. “I thought you wanted the ‘silly infatuation’ ended? You sound like her campaign manager.” 

Lucius frowned. “I assumed you settled matters with her parents.”

“They are not engaged, Lucius. I merely called on the Grangers to discover our children’s whereabouts. Mrs Granger’s invitation to stay for dinner was quite unexpected.”

“You visited them _in their home_ merely for information?”

“You forget that they do not adhere to our strict social protocols, my love. Do not fret: I was very discreet. The _Prophet_ will have nothing about my visit on their front page tomorrow.”

Lucius sniffed. “And the whereabouts of our lovebirds?”

Narcissa sighed. “They do not know either. It seems that Miss Granger has been somewhat estranged from her family in light of her relationship with Draco.”

Lucius harrumphed. “What have they got against our son? He is handsome, he is clever, he can fully support even the most spendthrift wife. _And_ he has... employment at the Ministry, which should satisfy their middle-class notions of being a ‘valuable member of society’.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes. “He belittled her in school, informed her that a ‘Mudblood’ has no place in our world. She would have told them about Draco’s involvement in Dumbledore’s death and that her friends were imprisoned in our dungeons. She was _tortured_ by Bella in our home! Oh yes, she was my sister by blood, but she was always more your sister in thought and deed!”

“Cissa…”

“No, Lucius! I made the Unbreakable Vow with Snape. I _knowingly_ defied the Dark Lord. Draco’s happiness is my only concern, and you _will not_ deny him anything that I still have in my power to ensure!”

Lucius’ shoulders stiffened. “I have wanted nothing but his happiness! I mistakenly thought I could guarantee it by supporting the Dark Lord’s cause! I admit I erred. Have I not paid enough for it? All the effort I put establishing connections at the Ministry. Did you think it was for personal gain? What need had I for their approval?”

Narcissa’s expression softened, and she caressed his cheek, leaning in to press a light kiss. Lucius finally relented, bringing his arms about her waist and letting her rest her head in the crook of his neck. As his chin came to rest lightly atop her head, she smiled to herself. _Checkmate_.


	8. Chapter 8

Having been guilted by Molly, both Harry and Ron showed up early to Sunday Brunch at The Burrow. There, they were met by the earliest arrivals: George and Luna and their brood. This time, Luna had chosen to bring her family of rescue felines. She had found them abandoned and starving in the nearby woods. The kittens were illegally crossbreds of a Kneazle and one of the small, undomesticated spotted cats, most likely a margay. The breeding experiment must not have gone as planned because instead of having the characteristic markings throughout their coats, the spots were in patches, making it seem like the poor sewing job of an inexperienced seamstress. Despite their scraggly appearance, the felines were extremely affectionate, and they soon surrounded the boys, demanding attention.

As he petted one of them, Harry murmured, “Hermione would want to adopt the lot.”

Ron snorted. “I wonder how well Crookshanks would take to such an invasion of his territory. Remember the last time…” He gave a guilty look when he realized how long ago he’d last spent time with his best friend at her flat. 

Harry mirrored his expression. He sighed. “The girls are right. We’ve been arses. She’s shown she’s happy with him. And don’t forget Crookshanks approves of him.”

“Wish that monster would stop being so suspicious of me,” Ron groused. “But you’re right. We haven’t looked past our history from school.”

“Pansy ‘reminded’ me the other day that I was being a hypocrite: I defended Malfoy at his trial, but I haven’t really forgiven him for his mistakes.”

“How’d we ever end up with the bossiest women in our lives? My mum, Hermione, Susan, and now Pansy.”

Harry shrugged. “Life’s definitely been easier with them taking care of things. I used to have to spend an afternoon going through a week’s worth of menus with Kreacher. But now I just have to come home and everything’s ready. And Kreacher’s been sneaking more meat options than what Pansy suggests.”

“You’d better make sure you give him clear orders to do that always if down the road you do end up marrying her. Right now, she can’t control him, but once she’s the wife…”

Harry smiled bemusedly. “Yeah. But that’s a while yet.”

Ron snorted. “Not if Mum has any say.”

The kittens suddenly scurried off as Luna approached with bowls of food and water. Once they were settled, she approached the pair.

“Hermione is coming home Saturday afternoon. A party to welcome her home would be a lovely way to say sorry.” She floated back to the kitchen.

Harry and Ron were so used to her mind-reading-like abilities that they didn’t even blink but began to seriously ponder her suggestion. Throughout the meal, they discussed ideas and solicited opinions from the family gathered. Ginny was quick to insist they run all final plans through her before execution. She offered Blaise’s cousin’s restaurant as the caterers and waved off Ron’s sceptical inquiry as to the cousin’s willingness. She implied about a reward to Blaise that had all her brothers choking on their foodstuff.

~*~*~*~

Hermione and Draco had decided that they would drop her things off at her flat and feed Crookshanks before heading to his place, certain that Hallan would have prepared a meal for them.

Therefore, it was a shocked couple who stood upon the outer hearth of Hermione’s Floo gaping at the crowd milling about her living room. There was a sudden shout of “Welcome home!” when the guests realized their presence. The pair was soon overwhelmed with hugs and demands to know their whereabouts the past three weeks. At some point, they were relieved of their luggage and had refreshments pressed into their hands.

The two had barely recovered from the enthusiastic greetings of their friends when they received a second shock and were confronted with the sight of their parents standing comfortably at the far end of the room, gazing fondly on the proceedings and seeming on quite comfortable terms with one another.

Hermione recovered first. “Mr and Mrs Malfoy! Mum! Dad! Er, it’s very nice of you to be here.” 

Charmaine Granger shook her head in amusement. Narcissa Malfoy gave a gracious smile and complimented Hermione on the decor, which made the young witch blush. Beside her, Draco let out a snort before straightening his back at his mum’s glare. He hastily greeted the Doctors Granger but couldn’t help remarking testily that he was surprised to find his parents here. Lucius merely harrumphed, but Narcissa airily informed that the Misters Potter and Weasley were kind enough to invite them, knowing how anxious both sets of parents had been about their only children’s sudden disappearance. Narcissa had been on the verge of submitting a formal missing person’s report but was saved the trouble when they received the belated news that said children had merely gone on vacation without informing them. At that, Hermione and Draco glanced uncomfortably at one another. 

The couple was saved from having to explain by the sudden appearance of Pansy and Ginny, who announced that the food was ready and that Hermione and Draco must be starved and should lead the crowd in tucking into the delicious comestibles. Hermione gave both girls a discreet, grateful smile. Ginny winked.

Having somewhat recovered from the shock and been revived by the excellent food, Hermione and Draco began making the rounds to catch their friends up on their adventures. 

Hermione was gratified when she learned of Harry and Ron’s efforts to plan the event, and as soon as she was able, she pulled them aside and hugged each of them fiercely. She silenced their attempts to apologize and began interrogating Harry about Pansy. (Later, Draco would drag Harry aside and read him the riot act; he received a read variation of the same act with the added reminder that Harry had the resources of the entire Auror department at his disposal.)

When the party finally came to a close and family, friends, and former foes had departed to their respective abodes, Hermione collapsed exhausted onto her couch and scratched Crookshanks’ ears as she snuggled against Draco’s shoulder.

“It seems we’ve won the battle without having participated,” Draco murmured into her curls.

“Mmm… ’s nice to not have to fight anymore.”

“Our parents seem quite friendly.”

“Mmm, yes. Mum made a passing remark about your mum paying a visit.”

“What!” Draco tugged at her chin so they made eye contact. “We’d better be on alert, else they’ll have the wedding planned out and we’ll be hustled down the aisle before we realize.”

Hermione rolled her eyes before grinning. “We could always elope. Now that we’ve been to that hotel in Ireland, we can always Apparate there. And I made sure I didn’t disclose its name or location.”

Draco chuckled and kissed her. “Then we’d better return already expecting our firstborn. Else, we’d never hear the end to the scolding.”

Hermione raised a brow. “Getting ahead of ourselves, aren’t we? There’s a crucial first step missing. And I haven’t promised anyth— _mmmpphhhh _…”__

__When they paused for breath, he said, “Still have feelings for Weasel King? Ow!”_ _

__“Still pining for Pansy, despite knowing she’s moved on? And is dating the enemy?”_ _

__“ _Touché!_ ”_ _

__“Blaise’s wrangled a double date next week. From the teasing remarks Pansy made, I think he’s hoping for something long-term with Ginny.”_ _

__Draco rolled his eyes. “We were only gone for three weeks! Dumbledore must be laughing in his grave. All this blasted interhouse unity.”_ _

__“Indeed. We should go away more often. Who knows? Maybe we’ll come home to find a dissolution of Houses at Hogwarts and all the students sharing common rooms like they used to.”_ _

__“And a house-elf installed as the new Minister for Magic. Ow!”_ _

__“Maybe we should send the children to one of the schools in America when the time comes. Then you wouldn’t have to worry so much about the infamy of the family name.”_ _

__“What?! If they are to head off to some foreign school, it should be Beauxbatons. At least the food will be decent.” He raised a brow. “Children? Who’s getting ahead of herself now?”_ _

__“If we have progeny, we will definitely have more than one. Even if we have to adopt. We’re both only children. We know how lonely it is,” she said seriously._ _

__“Well, I’m not opposed to having more than one sprog tearing about.”_ _

__“I’m glad we’re agreed. They’ll want pets. Luna has already offered to find the right match. They’ll need Crookshanks’ approval, of course.” She kissed her pet between the ears. “Does Hallan have any fear of animals?”_ _

__“No. Although we would need to ward off the kitchen. He wouldn’t take kindly to the invasion.”_ _

__“Well, that’s only sensible. Health and safety. We’d need to ward the entire house once the children learn to walk.”_ _

__Draco pulled her into his lap and kissed her. “You know, we could always perform a preemptive strike and spring the sprogs prior to getting married. Then Mum wouldn’t insist on a lavish celebration.”_ _

__Hermione scoffed. “My dad may not know how to wield a wand, but he’s very skilled at using sharp tools. Plus, he and my uncles all played rugby in school. You could be maimed for life.”_ _

__Despite the threat, she pressed closer and soon had his hands clamped tightly about her hips as breathless moans escaped his lips._ _

__Crookshanks gave a feline sniff and disappeared through the Floo to Draco’s flat, telling Hallan not to expect his pet and Drollery. As he feasted on some of the foodstuff intended for the humans, he reflected that at least his pet had come to her senses and not got together with Daft. There was a time he feared he would have to permanently deal with having either Daft or Dupable in their lives. His pet had upgraded. Now, if they could soon move to these improved accommodations…_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many kowtows to my two wonderful betas and fellow mods: unseenlibrarian and withdrawnred!
> 
> The basic themes found in the Greek myth about Eros and Psyche—forbidden love/star-crossed lovers, the perfect union of mind, body, and soul, prejudice, and trust issues—are the Dramione tropes we’ve been writing about since the ship was first built. So, instead of rehashing the plot, I thought it’d be interesting to look at the reactions of the supporting characters. And make _them_ do some of the work to keep the couple together, for a change.


End file.
